


The Fire of Your Life's Pure Luster

by navaan



Category: Versailles no Bara | Rose of Versailles
Genre: F/F, Kissing, Mentor/Protégé, Not Canon Compliant, POV Female Character, Romance, Training
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-12
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-07-29 06:19:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16258430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: Rosalie learns to be a fighter and a lady and perhaps it's to Oscar's gain.





	The Fire of Your Life's Pure Luster

**Author's Note:**

  * For [reconditarmonia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/reconditarmonia/gifts).



The darkness settled around her like a cloak, only lit up by the beams of moonlight falling into her room through the big window where it could break through the foliage of big, old trees that stood to this side of the mansion. Rosalie stood in front of the glass watching the shadows move around her, painting pictures for her mind's eye.

Oscar – the knight, the commander of the Royal Guard, the lady, the savior who had taken her in and promised to help her on the path towards her own revenge – had not returned yet and while no one of the servants questioned Rosalie's being here, she felt uneasy whenever she found her benefactor gone. 

What was her place here? 

What would her place be in the future?

She did not know. 

For a day she'd slept like a stone, exhausted and lost in her grief and confusion – on a bed softer than anything she'd known in all her life. By right, she should have been killed or trying to kill the lady's mother. Yet Rosalie was here, looking out at a new stage of her life.

And it all led back to the person – _woman_ – who had stopped her and decided not to punish but elevate her.

From her window she could see part of the avenue that led towards the mansion's main courtyard. In the glittering moonlight, she caught a glimpse of white. The horse she'd seen before, a brown mare not far behind. Oscar and André were returning. 

Her lady was coming home.

Finally she settled down on her bed, sitting and not lying down to sleep, wrapping her thoughts around herself like the cloak the darkness was forming and tried to fret no more. Tomorrow she'd see Oscar again and do what she had to learn. Grief still lingered inside of her, brilliant like the soft silver of the moonlight but in her thoughts, it mingled with the sharp blue shine of Oscar's eyes flashing with pride, anger, knowledge and a determination that until now had been alien to poor Rosalie Lamorlière.

She was going to do her best to not be found wanting.

* * *

She wasn't able to say what it was she had expected, but when Oscar put down the clothes on the table in her room she stared, wide-eyed: "I am to wear this?"

"For fencing, yes. They were mine once when I was younger and they should fit you well enough now."

"I am to learn fencing?"

"Fencing and horse riding. Fighting. Wielding a knife with more expertise than you did before. Don't look at me like that Rosalie. You can wear a nice dress again after I'm through with you. You want to find your mother's murderer?"

"Yes," she said and was no longer surprised that there was no hesitation in her voice. She had made n oath she wouldn't break and the calm that settled over her every time she thought of what she needed to do was like the cold, piercing blade she wanted to ram into the murderers hard. The thought made her light-headed, nausea. She stumbled.

Lady Oscar caught her by the arm like a valiant knight from a story. "Careful here, Rosalie. If you're feeling weak we'll have to postpone."

"No," she said and found that her hands had already grabbed the neatly folded clothes: fine white stockings, breeches and a waistcoat. Oscar had even brought her black heeled shoes with big square buckles. Men's clothing like Oscar was wearing. 

Oscar nodded once and told her: "I'll be waiting in the courtyard. Meet me there."

* * *

The breaches were comfortable. The hilt of the sword fit her hand as if Oscar had chosen it just for her. She had no idea how to wield it and as she discovered her arms were weaker than her knees had been up in her room and it wasn't just because Oscar was the fierce picture of a young warrior who'd stepped out of one of the epic landscapes she'd seen in the pictures adorning the gallery of the mansion. 

"Again," Oscar ordered and disarmed Rosalie not two seconds later, but caught her before she could end up nose first in the dirt again.

Pain shot through her wrist and tears stung her eyes. "I can't," she whimpered, hoping for the mercy Oscar had shown her before.

"No," Oscar said, "get up."

"I can't!"

"Of course, you can," Oscar growled and pulled her to her feet without any sign of gentleness. "Remember, that nobody will have mercy for you in a fight."

"You're too hard on her," André said from the side and Rosalie chanced a look at him. He was looking at her with that gentle look of compassion she's seen on their neighbors faces every time they'd been starving. She pushed herself up and shouted, throwing herself at Oscar. But before she could reach Oscar, she heard the bell-like laughter, high and clear and free – and this time she landed face first in the dirt. It didn't stop the laughter.

With all the rage she was feeling she pushed herself up into a half-sitting position. 

"See," Oscar said to André and there was nothing mocking in her expression when she looked down at Rosalie and held out a hand to help a startled Rosalie to her feet, "she'll learn to wield a sword just as well as I did. It's just practice."

Their fingers locked and Rosalie came to her feet, watching her lady in quiet awe as she grinned at her friend with the proudest smile. Her aching wrist, her dirtied breeches, the sword lying in the dirt, none of it made Rosalie feel like an accomplished fighter. And yet she felt she'd been praised.

* * *

Her own giggling laughter rang loud in her ears when Oscar showed her how to hold herself in a stifling dress that made her look like a princess. She twirled to see it fly and nearly stumbled over the richly decorated shoes.

Oscar caught her by the arm and smiled. 

"I won't ever walk like a noble."

"If you fall, lose your eyes," Oscar advised, "and keep your breathing shallow. Nobody will think it unusual for a fair young lady to faint."

"You wouldn't," she pointed out and then blushed when Oscar's eyes turned to her sharply. "I meant no offense..."

"I am not a fair young lady. I am the commander of the royal guard."

"But you are..."

Oscar's eyes flashed and Rosalie realized with a sudden clarity that Oscar must have had to prove more than anyone that she could do what she could do just as well or perhaps better than any man. She bit her lip, wondered how to apologize and whispered: "Fair."

To her unending relief, Oscar laughed one of the unrepentantly full and loud laughs that she had explained to Rosalie were anything but lady-like. Then she pulled her into the steps and explained as they went: "Let me show you. Then André can dance with you."

Rosalie never wanted the dance to end.

Her heart beat faster than it did during the sword fighting, faster than it had when Oscar had mounted her stallion with Rosalie half in her lap, faster than ever before. The flush of Rosalie's cheeks must betray her, but she couldn't stop smiling adoringly at her wonderful fierce knight and teacher.

* * *

The first time she met Lady Jarjayes after her own fateful attempt on the wrong woman's life that had led her here, she cast her eyes to the floor and curtsied low. The woman walked past her, sparing her a glance before she met her princely daughter down the hallway and hooking her arm into Oscar's offered one. "We've taken her in?"

"I have," Oscar said. "I'm teaching her to be a lady."

To Rosalie's surprise she saw the lady's face light up and kiss Oscar's brow as if she was proud of her.

Later that evening when the lady caught her in a corner of the dining room where she had stood by in case she as needed, but out of the way of the family, she said: "Although I'd love to forget how terrified I was when you came at me with a dagger, I'm glad you so unexpectedly came into our lives, Rosalie. Oscar never had the chance to explore a friendship like this. Her sisters may have been the closest she got, but all of them were much older and trained to be accomplished ladies. Be a good friend to my Oscar."

The gentle smile of the mother reminded her - despite the nobility and grace of this lady - of her own mother who had died in the street.

She caught Oscar watching them and bowed her head. "I can never repay the grace granted."

"You already are," the lady said and departed with a nod to her family.

* * *

She had become firmer in the saddle, more experience with sword and pistol, and she walked in a heavy dress fit for duchess s if she's known nothing else all her life. Oscar as leading her down the steps towards the carriage that would take them, helped her in.

Inside she pressed a kiss to Rosalie's lips and her heart began to flutter like dove caught in a web. They were so close enough so she could feel Oscar's whimpers brush against her cheek. 

"For good luck," Oscar whispered before she took her seat, but Rosalie didn't miss the rosy tinge to her normally pale cheeks that until now she'd only seen flushed with the exertion of a training fight.

She nodded and smiled and reached for Oscar's hand with a boldness that was growing in her with every bit she learned, with every strength she found in herself that had been hitherto unknown to her.

Oscar squeezed her fingers. There was an understanding, a knowledge, a growing kinship and love that was blossoming like one of the roses in the mansion's garden. It didn't need words. Not now. Not here.

Both of them had found something and now together they could see where it would lead them.

And off they went into the night.

The moon shone above them and yet Rosalie was filled with a new warmth and light that she would hold on to.


End file.
